Living the Suite Life

Notice the circled ticket price! Yowzers!!

Notice the circled ticket price. Yowzers!!

Here’s a dose of very unwelcome reality: Our hometown Houston L’Astros have lost at least 100 games for three straight seasons, including this one. We’re a whopping 38 games behind the first-place Oakland Athletics in the American League West Division (and, yes, I’m still protesting that stupid, forced move from the beloved National League). We easily have the worst record in major league baseball, winning a paltry 34 percent of our contests.

But they’re still our team, and I support them! Of course, being a lifelong Chicago Cubs fan, it’s easy for me to root, root, root for the wretched, pathetic, and pitiful. That just comes with the territory.

Mind you, supporting them doesn’t mean that I attend many games. After all, Minute Maid Park is well out of my 10-mile comfort radius. So when the Mister told me that we had tickets for last Saturday night’s game against the Angels, I hesitated to agree to go. Until he added the kicker . . . our company’s bank provided our seats. In a suite!

Sweet!

Quite a view from the not-so-cheap seats

Quite a view from the not-so-cheap seats

Having suite tickets means great parking, sharing nicer bathrooms with fewer people (it’s on its own private level), and all the food and drinks you can consume. The menu included pulled pork, chicken tenders, hot dogs (of course), salad, and amazingly good cookies (which is why I ran nine miles that morning).

Buy me some peanuts and . . . .

Buy me some peanuts and . . . .

Plus there were snacks like popcorn and one of my all-time faves, Cracker Jack. What’s not to like?

Well, of course, the Astros lost once again. I guess sometimes you just have to take the sour with the sweet suite.

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